"I am so glad I've found you, Mr. George," she said, looking up at him frankly, and putting out her hand (she always called him "Mr. George" now; she had told him she hated to use his surname, it reminded her of disagreeable things), "I am so glad I've found you. Mrs. Stothard reminded me that it was your last day here, and said I ought to make the most of it." "Mrs. Stothard said that?" asked George, with uplifted eyebrows; "I would sooner it had been your own idea, Miss Annette." "The truth is, I think I am a little vexed at the notion of your going," said the girl. "Come, that is much better," said George, with a smile. "No, no, I mean what I say; I am very, very sorry that you are going away." As she said this her voice, apparently involuntarily, dropped into a soft caressing tone, and her eyes were fixed on him with an earnest expression of regard. "It is very pleasing to me to be able to know that my presence or absence causes you any emotion," said George. "I have been so happy since you have been here," said the girl; "you are so different from anybody else I have ever met before. You seem to understand me so much better than any one else, to take so much more interest in me, and to be so much more intelligible yourself; your manner is different from that of other people; and there is something in the tone of your voice which I cannot explain, but which perfectly thrills me." "I declare you will make me vain, Annette." "That would be impossible; you could not be vain, Mr. George--you are far too sensible and good. It is singular to see how wonderfully well I have been since you have been here. On the morning after your arrival I felt as though I were going to have one of my wretched attacks, and Mrs. Stothard said it was because I had talked too much, and been too much excited the previous evening. But it passed off; and though I don't think I have ever talked so much to anyone in my life before, and certainly was never so interested in anyone's conversation, there has been no recurrence of it, and I have been perfectly well." The bright look had passed away from George's face, and he was regarding her now with earnest eyes. "If I thought that had actually been accomplished by my presence, I should be happy indeed; more happy in expectation of the future than in thinking over the past." "In expectation of the future!" repeated the girl, pondering over the words. "Oh yes, surely; you are going away now, but you will come again to walk with me, and to talk with me; and you are only going away for a time. How strange I never thought of this before." As she said these words she crept closer to him; and he, bending down, took her small white hand between his, and looked into her face with a long gaze of deep compassion and great love.